


Good Hearts Have Frozen Over

by End



Series: Azul Waters [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Character Study, Dissociation, Gen, Introspection, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Langst, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 14:06:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9275222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/End/pseuds/End
Summary: It starts in emptiness.It ends in the loud, overwhelming sound of complete and utter silence.What a pain it is to rebuild that mask every time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's projecting after a bad day?
> 
> ((hint, it's me))

It starts off as emptiness. 

 

“God damn it, Lance! It’s fine if you can’t do it, but stop dragging the team down just to try again!”

 

It’s a void eating away at his chest, absorbing his emotions until they refuse to show. There is no remorse or guilt, no anger or sadness. Only his carefree mask is left untouched, breezy and disturbingly happy, void of negativity.

 

He smiles. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. I’ll stop for today.”

 

The people around him are frustrated, and he knows it. The void is all eating- it sees what they feel and devours his reactions before they can come, making him cold. He knows he’s in the wrong, acknowledges it, and frequently points it out to himself, but he feels nothing. 

 

It doesn’t feel real.

 

-

 

The emptiness lingers in his chest frequently. 

 

He can’t do it, and he knows it. He’s seen his failures, lived them, breathed them- he knows it won’t work. He hates it, not succeeding, being an all around failure, hates failing and falling and dragging the others down, and yet-

 

The thing he hates the most is himself, because the void makes it impossible to  _ care _ .

 

-

 

He’s inching towards the edge at every failure. Every fall, every injury, every scream of a friend has him steadily reaching the point of no return, the void eating the at the path until all that’s left is right in front of him, a narrow passage that leads straight to the edge, no curves and nowhere to turn back to. 

 

“It’s not that hard, Lance. I’m sure you can do it if you try hard enough!”

 

He can’t do it. No matter how hard he wants to try, the void takes and takes, and his motivation falls away. He knows what he is supposed to feel, forcing fake immitations over his mask so that the void can’t reach them. He pours himself over little hobbies- reading, knitting, drawing- and the void recedes a little when he does, but-

 

“Can’t you put this much effort into your piloting?”

 

Every angry shout lets the void grow bigger until he’s drowning in the silence, dropping him in ice and making him terribly, unsettlingly cold, the easy-going smile of his people-pleasing mask never once slipping. He becomes nothing more than comic relief, the one to turn to -or torment, in his past- when you need a good laugh or a breath of fresh air. 

 

He isn’t sure if the void has eaten him or become him.

 

-

 

When he falls, it’s ugly. 

 

Everything the void has absorbed is spit out in a mix of guilt, rage, and sorrow, every word out of his mouth a shout, every blink leaving his sight blurry with tears. His breath catches more times than he can count, and his lungs seem to stop working when the air does pass. He’s angry- at himself, at his failures, at the void inside him. He’s angry at the mask that shatters every time he falls, rebuilding itself and shattering in an endless loop.

 

He falls off the edge, screaming and struggling the whole way down, forcing people away with his sudden abrasiveness. He curses and screams and fights, sobs into his hands and slams doors and kneads at his palms until they’re bruised. 

 

When the mask breaks, people leave- that’s what he’s learned through time. 

 

-

 

He rebuilds the mask and the void returns, his anger and fear and sorrow falling away to peace and tranquility and cheer. His mask is still brittle, but from all outer perspectives, he is fine. The others are still wary after seeing the monster behind the mask, scared that every little thing will drop him off the edge. He cracks jokes about it, falling back into his loop with the same easy-going grin as always, and goes back to pretending he isn’t drowning in the darkness of his own heart. 

 

Bonding exercises to prevent a repeat of his fall are useless- he’s buried the beginnings under mountains of happy memories and cheer and catchy music that hides his shattered heart, makes it appear whole and full instead of broken and hollow. The memories of his descent are blurred, like censorship, and the crash at the end is shown in only darkness- the repair of his mask invisible. No one can tell the difference between the mask and the heart, for the heart hides behind the mask and holds itself up by thin, brittle, invisible strings. 

 

He feels the emptiness spreading through him again, and accepts it like an old friend.

 

-

 

He falls again on a battlefield.

 

The void eats everything- everything except his mask and the few beams of light that his heart can create. The light comes only when the people around him need them, shining through the mask, sometimes enough to crack it, leaving him standing at the very edge.

 

For Lance, it’s only ever been for one thing: Do not hurt the people he cares about, because it will shatter the mask until all he can see is rage. His mind is wired to hold others above himself, to protect and defend and support his loved ones even if it turns him to dust. 

 

His mind goes blank, and he fights like he’s never fought before. When he’s done, he fixes his mask and walks away with nothing but torn knuckles, bloodied armor, and a bruised lip. The fall was made of rage, a minor fall that can be brushed under the rug with ease, blame on his older sibling instincts with a little laugh and a smile.

 

His mask smiles at his team, and he builds his walls around what he sees.

 

-

 

He is empty and cold, that much he knows. He knows what sets him off, what little things will push him, and how to drown out the silence when it reaches his ears. 

 

There is one thing that can shatter him instantly, however. Nothing can stop this kind of fall, no matter what measures he takes.

 

He absolutely cannot stand being ignored.

 

Sure, he’s fine if a joke is brushed off or a pick-up line is cut off, and he’s fine if his dramatics are shut down, but there are moments when being ignored will completely destroy him.

 

He has, in his past, had people dedicate entire days to pretending he doesn’t exist. 

 

He wants to be heard, even if he is shut down. He wants to be acknowledged, even in passing. As long as someone listens, takes his ideas into consideration, he is fine. 

 

But if he is disregarded, his mask shatters instantly. The smile drops, the atmosphere grows heavy, and he bears his shattered, hollow heart for all to see. 

 

He is  _ rage _ .

 

Rage, and sorrow.

 

-

 

His heart is hollow and scarred, broken in places and solid in others. It is held in place by weak string, hidden by a mask and dipped in an icy void. 

 

He is nothing more than a support beam, created to hold others up and eventually fall. He can be rebuilt as many times as need be to do his job.

 

He is like ice itself- it can be broken and destroyed, but it can always be remade. He flows like water and builds his walls, supports the best he can, falling and getting up in an endless cycle. 

  
In his icy, shattered heart, he accepts this, and lets go.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry b but i gotta  
> My good and pure boy reminds me too much of myself  
> so now he must suffer as i do  
> anyway bye <3


End file.
